


Maybe Just a Little

by jnp



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, POV Second Person, Prompt Fic, cheryl tries to teach toni to dance, i guess i'm bad at this, it doesn't go as planned, they're soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jnp/pseuds/jnp
Summary: "You are not trying to get me tipsy at three in the afternoon," you say in faux-annoyance as she hands you a glass."We're dumb teenagers, Cheryl," she husks. "We can get wine-drunk any hour of the day."orThey drink a little. Cheryl tries to teach Toni how to dance.





	Maybe Just a Little

"Toni Topaz, what are you planning?" you ask with a grin, watching your girlfriend rounds the corner from the kitchen to the living room with a bottle of wine in hand.

"I thought, given that we've been together for nearly a year, that you could finally teach me how to ballroom dance," she says, placing the bottle on the coffee table and sliding down next to you on the couch. She tucks her legs up underneath herself and wraps her arms around yours, leaning her head towards you and looking up with pleading eyes. You roll yours.

"Well, what's the wine for?"

She unravels herself from you and hops back up, hurrying back into the kitchen to return with two glasses. 

"Atmosphere," she says, removing the bottle stop and filling each up halfway. "To get the mood right, I guess."

"You are not trying to get me tipsy at three in the afternoon," you say in faux-annoyance as she hands you a glass. 

"We're dumb teenagers, Cheryl," she husks. "We can get wine-drunk any hour of the day."

"Maybe just a little," you say, but the smirk on her lips is enough to convince you. You take a sip, and she holds out her hand to pull you off the couch.

"Now, what were you saying about dancing?" you ask with a grin.

"Hold on," Toni murmurs, walking over to the speaker system. She pulls her phone out of her jeans pocket and plugs it in through the auxiliary cord. A gentle waltz begins, pouring through the room from all four corners. 

She finishes her drink and sets the glass on the table. You follow suit.

"Okay, how the hell do I do this?" Toni mumbles as you join her in the center of the room.

"Let me take the lead," you propose, and your place your right hand on her shoulder blade, hers in the other. "I will guide you."

You begin by swaying together to the music, allowing Toni to get a feel for the tempo of the song.

"I'm going to step forward with my left foot. Step backwards with your right as I move. Okay?"

She nods, and you inch forward and end up stepping on her toes.

"Toni!" you laugh. 

"Ugh," she groans. "Un moment, s'il vois plaît." 

Her attempt at a French accent makes you smile as she steps out of your grasp and heads back over to the table to refill the wine glasses. She hands you yours and you offer up a toast.

"To nearly a year," you say, and raise your glass. She taps the lip of hers against yours, then you both sip ceremoniously. 

Except it was less sipping and more gulping. You unintentionally start a race to see who can finish their drink first, then sigh in defeat as Toni lifts her empty glass in victory. 

"Listen baby," she begins. "If we're gonna day drink, we're gonna do it right."

"Cheers," you reply, and you bring your now empty glasses together again. 

Then Toni forgoes them entirely, bringing the bottle straight to her lips with a satisfied smirk.

"Toni!" you scold, but when she offers it to you, you do the same.

"Okay, c'mon now," she says, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to the center of the room. You put the bottle back on the table and follow her, positioning yourself the same way as before, only this time you move your hand just a little farther down. It's not practical for leading, but here you can feel her back shifting with every step you both take, and you revel in the intimacy of it.

"I'm going to step forward. You step back this time," you instruct again. Toni nods.

You make the first movement and now Toni moves with you. You expect to fall into a rhythm of some sort, stepping forward and back and spinning, but the wine gets to your head and you'd rather just rest your forehead against hers and sway to the music. 

"Cher," she whispers , her hand leaving yours so she can run her thumb across your cheek. Your eyes are closed but they flutter open at her touch.

"Mhm?" you hum back.

"Do one of those cool moves," Toni requests. 

You raise an eyebrow. "Like a dip?"

"Yeah. And a twirl."

"Think you can handle it?" you ask, not quite ready to pull back.

"Hell yeah."

"Okay."

You grab her hand again and step forward, leading her into a twirl, which is less of a twirl and more of Toni stepping in a slow circle. You pull her back towards you and lock your hands together around her back, leaning over and letting her settle into your embrace, then shifting back up.

"Woah," she mutters, bringing a hand to her forehead. 

"Dizzy?"

"Yeah," she replies, and you move into your previous position, her hands wrapped behind your neck, yours at the base of her back. "Kiss me?" she asks.

You lean in and immediately miss, planting your lips somewhere between her nose and her mouth.

"Holy shit, you're drunk," Toni giggles.

"How many glasses of wine did we have?" you ask, then give her a real kiss. You can taste the aftermath of the pinot noir in her lips, a little sweeter than it was from the bottle. 

"Two and then some," she reminds you, resting her forehead back against yours.

The both of you are quiet for a moment. You let yourself enjoy the gentle movement, the subtle rush of alcohol-induced euphoria, and your mind wanders to ten years before. 

"My mother made Jason and I take ballroom lessons when we were little," you tell her. You remember dancing with him in the living room of Thistlehouse, just about where you stand now, learning countless steps and twists and when the appropriate part of the song to employ them is.

"Oh yeah?" she grins softly. "How fondly do you remember that?"

"It was hell," you say, but you smile back. "She had us wear costumes. Jason wore his suit. I had this little red ballroom dress."

She doesn't say anything, allowing you to gather your thoughts again.

"It was hell," you repeat, "for me and Jason both. But he was right there with me."

There's a heavy silence.

"And clearly I retained the skill," you add. Your eyes have closed again.

Her hands move up and begin combing through the hair at the base of your neck, curling strands around her fingers before they drop to your waist and she hugs you, head resting on your shoulder, lips pressing to your neck. You hug back twice as hard, unconsciously keeping your bodies swaying to the rhythm of the waltz you'd long since stopped listening to.

Rays of afternoon sunlight filter in through the living room window, settle across your bodies and bathe the both of you in warmth. She sighs softly, contently. 

"I love you," she tells you, and nearly a year ago you would have found yourself struggling to believe it. 

"I love you, too."

And you have never doubted that.


End file.
